Shattered Delirium
by mercy.pond
Summary: When Steve and Bruce are abducted from the Avengers Tower and shipped across the country to a research institute bent on finding immortality, the remaining Avengers find themselves in a battle against one of the most secretive branches of the government. No pairings as of now, rated T for language and torture-scenes.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: whoo new story...the plot-bug bit me and here is the product! As for warnings, I'm a bit dark and for some reason I like torture in my stories so if you don't like reading bloody scenes, character whump, language, or a bad psychosis, then you might not like my story. (I probably won't write it that well anyway but whatever.**

**xD)**

**I'm going to try to be constant with my updates, but sadly I can't guarantee anything.**

**The Avengers belong to Marvel, and the mentioned characters belong to their respective owners. I own nothing...**

**~.~.~.~.**

Steve knew the day wasn't going to go well the second he woke sweating from his nightmare. His clock said that it was only 2:30 in the morning; an odd but familiar feeling of dread was creeping over his still-waking mind as he calmed his rapid breathing. He lay in the bed a few minutes longer, letting his heartbeat return to normal before pulling the tangled sheets apart and throwing them off the bed. Resting back on his pillow, it only took him a minute to realize that sleep just wasn't going to happen. Steve silently padded out of his bedroom and into the elevator, heading down to the communal kitchen they all used. His foggy mind barely registered the other presence in the room as he opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water.  
"You look terrible," Steve heard, jumping in fright as he fully registered Bruce sitting there. Bruce cracked a smile at Steve's alarm.  
Calming down again, Steve shook his head. "You don't look much better," Steve replied honestly. The doctor looked like hell, to be completely honest. There were bags under his eyes, and his face was gaunt; he had the look of someone who hadn't slept in a week. Which, knowing both Tony and Bruce, they probably hadn't.  
"Tony still down there?" Both knew Steve meant their lab. Bruce shook his head, smile wry.  
"No, Pepper came by around ten and sent him to bed. I only escaped her wrath by promising to be out by midnight."  
Steve laughed quietly. He was still amazed on the power Pepper wielded over Tony Stark, and most everyone on the team.  
"So you've been, what, sitting here for two hours?"  
Bruce shrugged. "More or less."  
Steve sighed. Opening his mouth to say something, he stopped when he felt a cold draft on the exposed skin of his back. A shiver crawled down his spine, and he shot to his feet. It was never really cold in the tower; all his team knew he hated the cold, and made sure to keep the temperature at about eighty. It was December, though, and Steve knew it would be that cold outside, but the cold being inside meant that a window or door was open, and _no one_ left windows or doors open.  
Steve fought off the panic that he felt, eyes methodically searching every nearby window for the source of the draft.  
Bruce was frowning at him, slowly rising from his stool.  
"Steve, what's wrong? Steve!" Ignoring Bruce's confused question, Steve finished his search of the windows and found the open window, striding up to it and looking out.  
Bruce finally caught on when he saw the open window. "Shit," he said quietly, mind racing. An open window meant that someone had gotten in; but why hadn't JARVIS said anything? Surely a break-in was worthy of notice?  
A bad feeling hit Bruce with that train of thought, and he ran over to one of the cleverly hidden panels Tony had installed to access JARVIS. Pulling open the controls, the doctor found them dead. Cursing in every language he knew, Bruce decided it was probably time for the rest of the team to wake up.  
His plan, though, quickly fell through when he heard a heavily thud across the room. Turning, he saw Steve crumple to the floor, eyes closed and a rather large gash on his forehead where he'd been hit. A spike of rage shot through Bruce, and he forgot his plan of waking the team. Striding over to Steve's prone body, he checked his vitals, nodding to himself when they checked out normal. Standing, he went to turn and felt something strike his head, hard. Bruce had only a second to think a rather bad curse word before to object hit him again, and he fell into unconsciousness.

~.~.~.~.~

When Tony woke that morning, he found himself alone in his room. He could have sworn that Pepper had been there last night...hm. Maybe he was going crazy.

Walking down the hallway and into the kitchen, he smiled when he saw Pepper standing guard over a pan of bacon, while Clint and Thor talked quietly at the bar. Not going crazy, then. The air felt a bit colder than usual, and Tony commented on it. No one seemed to know why it was chillier than normal, and Tony shrugged it off.

When he asked JARVIS where Bruce was, though, and the AI didn't answer, Tony quickly began connecting dots. Without a word to the others, Tony ran down to his lab and immediately started investigating. A bit of poking and prodding shed some light on the lack of JARVIS; something had turned the AI's sensors and communications off, which proved to really piss Tony off. No one just _shut off_ the AI.

By then, most everyone had ventured down to the lab; Pepper stood by Tony's side as he quickly turned JARVIS back on. Natasha and Clint were sitting together quietly on top of a table near the screen Tony was working at, and Thor was leaning on the two assassins' table, his expression dark.  
When Steve didn't show at all, everyone knew he was gone. Steve never slept in; he was always up at five, on the dot, every day. His absence put the remaining team in an even fouler mood.  
It didn't take Tony long to figure out that someone had just waltzed into _his _house, basically shut up _his _AI, and just walked out with two of _his _friends.  
Tony really didn't like people to touch his stuff.

Seeing as Bruce was MIA in a bad way, Tony chose Natasha to be his fill-in science bro. She took the job without argument, or even a comment. Tony didn't say anything either, though; both were too mad to speak. Natasha was searching through all of JARVIS's information. She didn't find much of anything of use to them.  
Tony found that whoever had broken in had only turned off JARVIS's communications, not his cameras. Idiots.  
This new knowledge led to the discovery of the video of the now-apparent kidnapping. As Tony played the video, he could see the faces of his team-mates grow hard.  
Tony barely felt the arm Pepper wrapped around his waist as the video showed Steve falling soundlessly and Bruce noticing; as there was sound the team could hear every swear word that fell from Bruce's mouth and Tony even cracked a brief smile at the doctor's bad mouth.  
The smile fell when Bruce was also dropped, his head hit twice before succumbing. The audio was clear as the kidnappers started dragging the two Avengers. 'We've got the subjects, Doctor. We should be back at the Institute in four days. We're taking them in the truck, don't want either of them to bust out of the plane.' The reply was inaudible, but from the kidnapper's smirk if was a pleased reply.  
They left soon after that, Bruce thrown over a huge guy's shoulders and two equally large men carrying Steve between them.  
Tony commanded the returned JARVIS to shut off the video. Looking around him, he noticed that both Natasha and Clint had the same expression of 'planning'. Thor was staring at the table he was leaning on, his hands curling into the metal. Pepper looked like she wanted to cry, but with a brave, shuddering breath, she calmed herself and looked at Tony.  
"So what are you going to do?" she finally asked.  
"We're going after them." he growled, his blazing with rage as he swept out of the lab. He didn't look to see if anyone was following him; instead, he pulled out his holophone and dialed a number he didn't like to call.  
When the voice on the other side of the phone answered warily, Tony spoke.  
"We need to talk. Now. We'll be at your HQ in twenty."  
Fury sounded a little confused when he replied. "Talk about what, Stark? I have a meeting in five min-"  
"Cancel it," Tony snapped, striding through his house to the garage. "Someone's decided it was a really good idea to turn off my AI and take off with Captain America and the Hulk at 2:30 this morning." Tony heard Fury curse as Tony jumped into one of his cars. He barely noticed Pepper climbing in next to him, or Natasha, Clint and Thor piling into one of his other cars.  
"We'll be there in twenty." Fury agreed with Tony this time.  
Fuming, Tony started the car and threw it into drive, screeching out of the garage as Natasha easily followed him.

It really only took the two drivers ten minutes to make it to the land-base for SHIELD.

~.~.~.~.~.~.

**Chapter Peak:** 2: Steve and Bruce. In which Steve in mostly confused and a bit of a fighter.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: wow! thank you all of you guys so much; i didn't realize this story would be so popular! i want to say thank you to everyone who has favorited, story-alerted, and even reviewed! i'm probably going to write this fic i decided with more Steve & Bruce then the rest of the team, but the team will appear!**

**okay, so on to the next part!**

**~.~.~.~.~.~**

Steve's first conscious thought that his head _really_ hurt. He was drawing a blank at why his head hurt, but he figured if he opened his eyes he'd figure it out.

When he did open his eyes, though, the information wasn't very helpful. It was complete darkness, and he couldn't see a single thing. He barely made it to his hands and knees because the whatever-he-was-in moved and jolted too much for Steve to get his balance. He stopped counting how many times he fell trying to stand after it hit ten; his head was too scrambled to keep up the count, which he figured must be from drugs his metabolism somehow hadn't burned off yet.

After so many times of trying, Steve finally managed to get to his feet. He stumbled again when the box – after careful observation (aka falling), Steve had decided he was in some kind of box – jerked to the left, throwing off his balance and making him stumble over something _large_ that groaned. Steve froze instantly, his senses in over-drive. Hesitantly kneeling, he reached out to touch the thing he had hit. The mass groaned again, but Steve couldn't connect the dots to figure out the person's – he decided it was a person because imagining that it was anything else scared the hell out of him – identity.

Time passed like honey in the box. Steve was still addled from the apparently extremely-potent drugs he had been given, the other person's identity remained unknown, and he had still not thought of an escape plan as there was literally no light to shed on his situation. At one point Steve had felt the entire box stop moving, and he was so shocked by the lack of motion that it took him a minute to realize that this could be his ticket to escape. One punch to the box wall, though, swiftly destroyed his plans. Not only had he managed to break his hand, but the wall looked as intact as before, which made Steve scowl.

The box stayed motionless for what Steve could guess was an hour. His hand had already started mending, and his energy level was rising from lack of release. He felt like he had drunk five coffees back-to-back; he was almost ready to start pounding on the walls when one of them opened. Light flooded in and Steve had to shield his eyes from the brightness. The light came from a single point; a flashlight. The space around the flashlight was pitch black, so Steve guessed it was about two in the morning. The flashlight searched the entire box, and Steve glanced over just to see the face of the other person as the light switched off and the wall closed with a resonating _crash_ that made Steve flinch. The other person moaned, stirring slightly. Steve had gotten enough of the person's face to connect the dots; it was _Bruce_ who was in this box with him. He felt better knowing the person's identity, and comforted that it was Bruce, even if he was completely knocked out from drugs. Eyes heavy, he slumped down on the wall next to Bruce's prone body.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Steve's eyes flashed open as he jolted to his feet, grunting when he fell back down from the force of his momentum. His mind was clearer than it had been earlier; it was clear enough for him to realize that his situation had not changed, and he wasn't even completely clothed. He was still only wearing the pajama pants from before; he wished he at least had on a shirt or something.

Looking over, he found that Bruce was still unconscious. He was hesitant about waking him – if he panicked and changed, Steve wouldn't stand a chance – but he wasn't sure if leaving him unconscious for two days was healthy. Taking the risk, Steve reached over and shook Bruce's shoulder. When nothing happened, Steve felt his still-present feeling of dread grow even more. What if Bruce didn't wake up? What if he went into a coma that turned into hibernation – his train of thought was derailed from hysteria as the box jerked to a stop, again.

His mind again running through plans of escape, Steve crawled over to the wall next to the wall that was a door. As it opened with a screech that made Steve want to cover his ears from the sound, he flopped down against the wall. The flashlight roved over the interior of the box as it had before, but Steve was alert and had a plan. Taking a deep breath, he lunged out of the box and crashed into the man holding the flashlight. The man was out with one punch to the head; another man came running and Steve knocked him out as well with a well-aimed kick to the chest, sending the man to the ground. Yet another man came up behind Steve and threw his arms around Steve's chest; with no mercy Steve broke one arm with his hand and head-butted the attacker, sending him sprawling to the ground with his comrades.

When no more men came running, Steve took the opportunity to jump back into the box – he saw now that it was actually the trailer on a very large truck – and grab Bruce, slinging the unconscious man over his shoulder. Grunting with Bruce's dead weight, Steve slid off the trailer's edge and started running down the road away from the truck.

Twenty minutes of running and an illegal road crossing later, Steve passed a sign that read '20 miles to Rochester'. Steve didn't know what state he was in – Rochester could have been in New York for all he knew – but the state shape on the next sign gave him a better idea of his location. His body didn't protest the physical exertion at all; he had way too much pent-up energy to burn, and the twenty-mile trek would probably do him good.

Steve stopped when he could see the city lights. Gently putting Bruce down, he noticed that the doctor was still unconscious, and Steve was starting to get worried. Whatever they had given Bruce must have been a lot stronger than what they'd administered to Steve. Picking Bruce back up, he started running again.

Steve was starting to get woozy again when they got to the city of Rochester proper. The drug's after-effects hadn't worn completely off, and he was almost delirious when he saw the blue sign with the loud 'H' on it. Only a block from the hospital – he could see it; they'd be fine – when he heard tires screech against the asphalt. Against his better judgment Steve looked behind him and saw the truck-trailer tearing over the road directly at them. Steve started running against, his pace picking up faster as the truck got closer. He didn't know what he was shouting but he was; he even cursed one of Bruce's favorite curses when he felt the tranq dart pierce his bicep. When he stumbled he knew it was over, but he still kept running. A bullet ripping through his calf made him fall, gasping as he tried to keep his gaze steady. His peripheral vision was black, and just as the men in the trailer roughly picked him up his eyes closed and he blacked out.

~.~.~.~.~.~.

**Next Chapter Peak: **3: Steve and Bruce. In which Steve awakes and is given a dose of t&p – torture&pain


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: aaaaand for the next chapter, more Steve! hehe. thank you (everyone!) who has reviewed, favorited, story-alerted, or just read! reviews are probably my favorite (xD) and i love seeing them in my inbox~**

**i'm so excited today; i went to the bookstore and _bought_ myself the first comic of the 'Death of Captain America' series. i was sad to see how late i am to the whole party (the series came out in 2007 xD) but it's my first real foray into the world of comics and i'm glad i have it to read. ahahaha**

**/is a nerd**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Marvel Universe, which is where Steve and the Avengers are.../tear**

**~.~.~.~.~.~.**

When Steve woke again from a drug-induced sleep, the pain he had felt from his last waking was gone. Eyes still closed, he tried to move his stiff body, to stretch, but his body didn't move at all. Frowning, he tried again to move his arm, growing irritated when the limb proved immobile.

Opening his eyes was harder than Steve had expected. The bright light he was assaulted with when his eyes finally opened made him gasp and quickly close his eyes. He stayed in darkness for a while longer, wondering if it was worth the pain to see his situation. Coming to the conclusion that he needed to know, he cracked an eye open again, slowly adapting to the harsh light.

When his sight came into focus, Steve was confused. He was no longer in the truck-trailer; instead, he was in a small white room, expertly restrained to a cold, gray lab table. Looking down more closely at himself, Steve discovered why he couldn't move his arm even an inch. He was bound to the table with restraints across his shoulders, chest, abdomen, and hips. Each arm and leg was individually lashed to the table with at least six straps; Steve figured that whoever had kidnapped him knew who he was and knew what they were doing.

Figuring that he might as well take a chance, Steve tensed his muscled and strained against the unyielding restraints. When he could feel the strap digging into his shoulders he stopped, short on breath as he thought up a new plan. Studying his surroundings didn't give him much inspiration. Every wall was stark white, and the door looked like it was made from steel. There were no windows, and the air vent was up in the ceiling and no bigger than his head. His binding were going nowhere fast, as he'd proven, but he was too agitated and just plain _scared_ to do anything but struggle. The most he could move of his arm were his fingers, and the same with his toes. He could move his head, but the rest of him was immobile. Stuck. Plus, he _still_ didn't have a shirt on, and he was starting to shiver from the cold table under him.

Surely they had heating in this building? He could swear the temperature had dropped at least ten degrees in the last minute, and his mind was over-reacting no matter how much Steve _knew_ that it wasn't really cold and he guessed he had a phobia but he couldn't tell anymore and he just wanted to _get out_ –

He hadn't realized he'd started yelling until the door cracked open. Steve was too busy trying to control his sudden breakdown to notice the gaunt man that came in, brandishing a syringe like it was a sword. Steve was finally starting to calm himself down – the door had let out the cool air – when the man harshly stuck the needle in his arm, his expression apathetic. Without saying a word, the man left the room and shut the door with a loud _bang_ that made Steve wince.

~.~.~.~.

Whatever the man had injected in Steve didn't do anything. He had to wonder what exactly these guys knew about him – so they knew about his strength, but so did most everyone. Had they simply forgotten about the metabolism he had from the serum? Or had that man just forgotten? It was a puzzle Steve wasn't able to figure out.

An hour later Steve was staring up at the ceiling, his expression blank and his eyes closed. Steve was far from sleep, though; instead, he was using his enhanced hearing to try to hear beyond his room and to discover some pertinent information to help get him – and Bruce – out. First, though, Steve had to find Bruce.

His quest for information was harder then he'd imagined. His walls were thicker then he'd thought they would be, and half of his concentration was focused on hear though them. Then, of course, was the problem of actually _finding_ Bruce. Most of the people he 'encountered' were either unconscious or sleeping; he heard only one person who was awake and they were screaming their head off. It took only a few seconds of the noise for Steve to retract back to himself, hyper-aware of everything in his white room. He could feel his heartbeat race, his breath quick and shallow as he tried to hold back his emotions. Was that why they had been brought here? To be _tortured?_ He had no experience with this sort of thing! What did they even want?

His questions ran rampant through his brain, distracting him from the white white walls that he was sure, in the back of his mind, were going to drive him insane.

~.~.~.~.

Steve was getting to the point where he was about to start talking out loud just to fill the silence when the door was thrown open. Steve flinched at the resonating sound; the man who had walked in just smiled.

"Well, Mr. Rogers, you're looking lively." Steve glared at the man, opening his mouth to respond with a retort he was sure Tony would have been astounded by. The second his mouth opened, though, a rag was being shoved in between his lips and he was roughly blindfolded. He could feel the restraints loosen and he found that his body had gone numb; he had to be dragged from the room because he legs had buckled the moment they had tried to support his weight.

His feet dragged across the floor as they moved, the high-pitched squeak making his head ache. The men holding him were shorter and weaker than Steve; he could tell by the struggle they had to hold him up and the angle of his aching shoulders.

It seemed like an eternity had passed when they finally let him drop to the ground. The floor was chilly and hard, and he couldn't get a good look at the men around him after they ripped off his blindfold and he got disorientated. As his vision righted itself, the two short men picked him up and dumped him in a chair he hadn't noticed before.

"Why the hell am I here?" Steve growled suddenly, ignoring the ache in his shoulders as the short men tied his hands to the chair. No one made a response.

The door opened again and a masked person scuttled in, pushing a steel table topped with about ten different tools. Steve's face paled.

Without warning, the man who had spoken before snatched up a thick butcher knife and unceremoniously stabbed it into Steve's bicep. A second knife was stabbed in his opposite bicep, making any struggling virtually impossible.

His pained cry was heard beyond the walls of the room.

~.~.~.~.~.~.

**oooo cliff-hanger...did i write i well enough? i hope so~**

**Next Chapter Peak: 4: Steve and Bruce. In which Bruce finally wakes up and the villan is insane.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: ahh hello again! this chapter is a day late, i believe; sorry about that, you know how real life gets sometimes!**

**I own nothing from Marvel, or any fictional character who is owned by someone other than Marvel.**

**~.~.~.~.~.~.**

Steve's journey to consciousness was slow. His eyes were heavy when he tried to open them, and when he gave up he instead focused on trying to remember what had happened. He spent a few minutes trying to think through the unexpected mind-block his subconscious had apparently built. That plan, too, fell through, and Steve was left in the dark.

With his memories in temporary storage, Steve decided that opening his eyes would probably help him get past his memory-block. His eyes opened easier this time, but he was more displeased with his surroundings then with his body's sluggish reactions.

When Steve looked around, he found himself in a room not unlike the one he'd been in before – before? As he thought about that the memories came rushing back and he couldn't stifle the small cry as he remembered the feeling of knives, stuck in his arms and shoulders and _oh God_.

His shallow breathing evened out when he reconciled with the memories; yes, they happened, but there was nothing to do about it now, and he didn't even have the injuries anymore. So Steve bravely put the experience behind him and looked around the room. It was as big as the room from before, and had the same stark white walls and harsh light. Trying to move proved futile; he was in the same chair that he could remember being tied to before; but this time even his legs were deftly secured to the chair legs. Steve smiled a little, remembering the moment after they had stabbed him with the knives he'd kicked his torturer and ran for it, almost making it to the door before his legs were kicked out from under him and he'd fallen.

Aside from his secured legs, nothing else was ne – Steve blanched. In the corner of the room caty-corner to Steve, there was another who was also well-secured to a chair.

"Bruce?" Steve whispered, fear tinting his voice. Bruce looked worse than he had the last time Steve had seen him; his hair was lank and his face was ashen.

"Bruce!" Steve tried again, his voice more worried now. Bruce didn't respond other than to stir slightly.

"Bruce!" Steve's voice was loud now, hoping to wake his friend from whatever sleep he was in. "Bruce, for God's sake, you have to wake up – " The opening door stopped Steve cold, his worry morphing into anger as the man who'd tortured him strode in, a pleasant smile on his face. Steve glared at him, his restrained body tense.

"Ah, are you angry, Mr. Rogers? I don't see why. You should be honoured to have this….opportunity." The man laid a hand on Bruce's shoulder, shaking the doctor slightly. Steve growled at the man, his eyes murderous as he strained against the restraints. He could feel them biting into his shoulders and chest, but he ignored the pain. The man only smiled again, his eyes cold and appraising.

"I swear, if you don't let me out of this chair I will rip it apart and then I'll –" Steve's threat was stopped short when Bruce moaned, shoulders shaking. The doctor's head lifted slowly, eyes blinking slowly as he tried to process. When Bruce met Steve's eyes, he frowned and looked at the man who still had his hand on Bruce's shoulder.

"Who're you supposed to be?" Bruce asked, glaring at the man.

The man chuckled. "Oh, I must apologize. I have not introduced myself. I am Dr. Dominus. It is my true pleasure so meet you, Mr. Rogers and Mr. Banner – " Steve cut him off there, his expression dark. "It's _Captain. Captain_ Rogers, and _Doctor_ Banner," Steve snarled. He didn't pull rank usually – technically he wasn't even in the Army anymore – but this man, this 'Doctor Dominus', was making him want to pull any authority he could. Bruce didn't appear like he cared that much about his title. Dominus looked even less impressed. Steve watched as the man strode up to him angrily and slapped his face, wrenching his neck. Steve refused to let the cry of pain he felt out; burning with anger, he lifted his head back up to glare at Dominus. "You have no titles here that I do not give you. Don't imagine that you can just bestow yourself with such grandeur." Dominus's rant was spoken with veiled rage, his eyes lit with a light that Steve could only imagine was insanity.

Dominus took a minute to control his emotions, and Steve watched as the violent rage settled down under the cold mask. Dominus smiled as the gleam of insanity left his eye. Steve was honestly scared out of his mind.

"Right. Now that you've…had your fun, I'd like to go home, now." Bruce's voice was unexpected, and when Steve looked at him he was pleased to find Bruce looking more awake, his eyes focused on Dominus.

Dominus only laughed.

"Go home? Why, Mr. Banner, what home do you mean? As your records say, you _have _no home. You should stay here, where you will be of actually use." Bruce's expression darkened, but he started to pull against his restraints.

Steve was equally angered. He was trying to keep control of his emotions, trying to get the man to tell him why the hell they were there, but he wasn't sure if he could. It was a job better suited to Clint or Natasha, but as neither was there Steve had to make do.

"What would we be of…use, for, exactly?" Bruce, it seemed, was much better at keeping his anger at bay, though Steve knew it that particular skill was not for a lack of reason.

Dominus nodded, slowly walking around the two men. It was then Steve really looked at the man, examining his physical appearance and trying to use what he knew about reading people. Dominus was rather short, shorter than both Steve and Bruce. His skin was pale and his hair was a washed-out shade of gray. His clothing was plain, functional; a white coat and pale gray scrubs, a pair of glasses in his coat pocket and a pager in his pants pocket.

"I never said that both of you were of use," Dominus stalled, watched the two of them carefully. Bruce smiled blandly. "Well, the only one you _haven't_ tortured in this room is me, and something tells me that stabbing Captain America wasn't done just for kicks." Steve looked surprised. Bruce looked at him, eying his hands without speaking. Steve looked at his bound hands, spotting the almost faded pink lines that were all that was left from his wound.

Dominus's smile had fallen. He seemed to have to think something over before answering Bruce, his face spasming between emotions before settling back to his former coldness.

"You, Mr. Banner, and Mr. Rogers here have been _specially_ chosen for work in a certain…scientific research project." Both men were confused. Steve spoke first, his tone wary. "Listen, I don't know what you think I know but I don't know anything about scie – " Dominus cut him off. "Mr. Rogers, it's not your mind that will help this institute reach its goal."

Banner asked the next question. "And what _is_ this goal?"

Dominus grinned. His next words were recited as if from a textbook, his voice turning robotic as he spoke. "The purpose of this most glorious institute, the Institute of Regenerative Research, is to find immortality that can be shared for all those who are worthy."

Both Steve and Bruce paled; Steve started arguing with the first thought that popped in his head. "You can't recreate the super-soldier serum, it's impossible – " Bruce cut in at that point, continuing the argument, "I should know, I _tried_. Trust me, that's not a road you want to try to go down – " Dominus yelled at that point, effectively silencing Steve and Bruce's argument.

"The leader of this institute has _no interest_ in such a hopeless idea as re-creating such a failure – " Steve was rather irritated at that " – and is more interested in getting to the actual problem of regeneration. This is why you both were volunteered for this project. You will join a number of other subjects as you assist the Director in his quest for the ultimate privilege, the reward that not even a god could give." Dominus's expression was one of insane triumph, and Steve could feel the horror, terror and rage in his heart swell. Glancing over at Bruce, he saw the same level of mixed emotion in Bruce's expression, and Steve wanted nothing more at that very second then to be back in New York, even back in Stark Tower with Tony trying to get him to go 'clubbing' with Tony, Clint and Bruce; even with Natasha giving him deadpan looks when he tried to treat her like a lady, the way he was raised to; even with that still-weird 'AI' named JARVIS that was _everywhere_. Really, Steve just wanted to be anywhere but here. Across from him, Steve knew Bruce felt the same.

Behind him, the door opened and two men came in, each pushing a metal table. Steve started pulling desperately at his restraints, desperation pulling at his mind as he saw Bruce also pulling at his own restraints with no more success than Steve.

"Let's see how fast your bodies can heal from this, shall we?" Steve let out a shocked yell when Dominus thrust another knife into his hand, thrashing as spastically as he was able. He heard an equally loud howl from Bruce, and Steve's desperation bled with fear as the merciless torture began again.

~.~.~.~.~.~.

**A/N: i hope i'm writing Bruce so that he sounds like Bruce...i think i do, but input is always welcome~**

**also, if anyone knows any Marvel and/or other characters who are regeneratively-powered enough to maybe be found in a place like the Institute, please tell me! I'll have 'cameo' appearences for these characters (the ones I have so far): Captain Jack Harkness [Torchwood/Doctor Who], Wolverine [X-Men], and Claire Bennett [Heroes]. These characters aren't actually going to play a real part, but I need some names for Doctor Dominus to throw around, and I'd like them to be accurate~ so, thank you in advance to anyone who can help me out, and thank you for reading!**

**Next Chapter Peak: 5: Team. In which Tony is Tony and starts a fight.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: to all my lovely readers, here is a chapter with the team in New York! I've introduced some Pepperony, but since it's not in the main focus of the story the summary's still the same...hehehe.**

**shout-out: Painting The Roses Blue:: thank you for your affection and ranting and ' HJGHKDFLHGSKJDF ' - ing and for your commitment to life.**

**xD**

**little news no-one reads: i got Captain America: The First Avenger today! on DVD! not only that, but i applied for a job at Barnes & Noble...which is a big deal for me.**

**:D**

**~i don't own anything...except the Captain America movie!~**

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Tony Stark was not good at waiting. His level of patience had always been remarkably low, and right then it was plunging with every _freaking_ second that passed by. To his credit, though, he hadn't killed anyone with his annoying-ness or sarcasm.

Currently, every Avenger minus two was on the Helicarrier in the control room. Fury was talking to someone was probably as helpful as their wonderful leader in a RadioShack. The four of them sat at the table together; Pepper had been denied access to the Helicarrier and had instead gone back to the Tower. Across the table from Tony, Clint and Natasha were again talking quietly; every now and then Tony would hear a bit of their conversation: "knives", "anyone you know", "why", and even "go out alone".

Three seats down from the two master assassins, Thor sat alone, brooding. The demi-god was staring at his hands, Mjolnir resting on the table beside him. Idly, Tony wondered how long the table would last against the supernatural hammer; he was surprised it hadn't fallen through the glass already. It was truly a puzzle, the weight of Mjolnir against the flimsy gla – " – Stark!" Tony spun his chair around to face Fury, not bothering to hide his annoyance of Fury's interruption of his thoughts.

Fury was not amused, but continued now that Tony was paying attention. "I've had agents try to identify the men who abducted Banner and Rogers, but they've had no luck. We've also trace the phone call the one man made, but all we got was a cabin in northern Wyoming." Tony frowned, looking up from the phone he'd pulled out of his pants pocket. "Wyoming?" he asked, getting distracted by his phone again even as he spoke.

"Yes, Stark one of the western states – hey, would you. _Please. _Pay attention?" Fury's tone was more forceful than usual – and that was saying something – and Tony would have easier come back with something that would have guaranteed his place on Fury's bad side, but to be honest he was more interested at that point to see what Fury had to say about their missing team-mates. Fury glared at him for a few seconds before turning back to the table. "We've sent a couple of agents out there already, and –" Natasha cut him off there, her face as emotionless as usual. Her eyes blazed, though. "You sent agents to look for them _without us_?" Fury stared her down, but she didn't look away. Fury continued a few seconds later. "We've sent agents out to scout the area. I had no intention of sending agents to retrieve Rogers and banner; this situation would be dangerous even if all six of you went out, let alone just four of you." That didn't sound good to Tony, but he was sure that the four of them had enough anger to take out whatever bad guys happen to get in their way.

"When do we leave, Director? I should like to go as swiftly as we can to retrieve our missing brothers." Thor spoke up from his seat, his eyes focused on Fury. Fury shuffled his feet and Tony raised an eyebrow at the S.H.I. . director.

"You won't be leaving immediately, Thor." Fury sounded almost….hesitant. "We're still not sure about who exactly took Rogers and Banner. Until we know for certain, we will not be staging a rescue." The four Avengers lost their cool.

Tony was the loudest, of course. The argument escalated even as Fury tried to control it, the four Avengers shouting as Fury shouted back, about how their missing men needed then _now_ and Tony Stark would be damned if he left those bastards have such free reign with his two friends and Natasha knowing she and Clint could get both men out easy and Fury hollered that they didn't know what they were up against and if they would just shut the hell up he would explain it – Behind Fury, Maria Hill lifted her gun and fired into the wall opposite the table, effectively shutting up all five of the fighters. The entire room was silent after the gunshot; Tony was crouched on the ground before he even knew what he was doing. A few seconds passed and Tony shakily stood upright again, silently daring anyone to comment on his reaction as the room slowly settled back into its routine.

"Thank you, Hill," Fury said in a lowered voice, glancing over at the glaring woman. "You're welcome, sir," Hill replied, turning back around to face the windows.

Clint spoke first after the exchange. "So why is it we can't go after Steve and Bruce?" His voice was calmer than Tony thought it would be. Fury sighed.

"We don't know anything about the group that abducted them, other than they communicate through a cabin in the backwoods of Wyoming and they're knowledgeable enough to sneak into your tower and re-program your AI system." Fury stopped to gauge their reactions, and Tony took the chance to speak up. "Actually, they didn't 're-program' JARVIS, they just cut off his communications. There's a difference." Fury was unimpressed with Tony's correction, but the way Tony saw it the man was always either unimpressed, manipulating, or desperate. Talk about the emotional range of a teaspoon.

Down the table, Thor stood. Fury looked at him quizzically.

"I will not allow myself to wallow here with worry, good Director. Surely there is _something_ we can do to help the search?" Thor's voice was subdued, but his subconscious authority showed in his respectful tone. When Fury shook his head, Tony also stood, clapping his hands together. "Well, then. Since we're of absolutely no help here and Thor's up for it, I vote for going back to the Tower and doing…stuff." The plan was met with nods from the rest of the team, and since Tony didn't count Fury as an authority in this matter, the director's frown was ignored.

"Stark – " Fury's used his name with a tone of warning, and Tony spun around, walking backwards as he grinned. "Don't worry, Nick, we'll stay in the general tri-state area and we definitely won't do something productive like actually rescuing Cap and Bruce." Tony's words were met by a stony glare, so Tony elected to ignore him again and strode out of the room, jogging a bit to catch up to the quicker-paced Thor, Natasha and Clint.

~.~.~.~.

The car pulled up to the Stark Tower a couple hours later; the Helicarrier had been half-way across New Hampshire when the chopper had taken them down and Happy had picked them up.

Most of the ride had been in silence, everyone wrapped up in their own thoughts. The elevator ride up to the top floors was quiet, too. When the elevator got to the first penthouse floor, the four Avengers saw Pepper standing over an unopened bottle of water in the kitchen, arguing heatedly with someone on her phone. Seeing her, Tony was the only one who stepped out of the elevator; Natasha nodded to him and pushed the button for the next level before either Thor or Clint could say anything.

Coming quietly up behind Pepper just as she hung up on whoever she'd been talking to, Tony wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The strawberry blond leaned into him, her own arm around his waist. She didn't bother asking if they'd found out anything about Steve and Bruce; Pepper knew that if they had they would have been gone hunting already. Resting her head on Tony's shoulder, Pepper sighed. "You'll get them back, Tony. The four of you will save them and when you do make sure to blow the bastards up." Tony didn't reply; taking a deep breath, he hugged her close before pulling away, sitting down on one of the stools and taking her bottle of water.

After a minute of silence, Tony asked her about her rather heated conversation. Pepper sighed again, grabbing another water from the fridge and taking the stool next to him. "That," she started, "was the president of the board, who was wondering why you hadn't made it to the meeting this morning." Tony wondered why they kept bothering to ask him to come at all. It wasn't like they didn't know there was a fifty/fifty chance of him actually showing up. "I explained to him that it was an actual emergency and two of your friends had gone missing, but apparently he'd 'heard that excuse too many times' and then he quit." Tony mulled on that. "Sounded like a cheerful fellow, I'm glad he's gone." Pepper smiled at bit at that, and Tony smiled back.

An hour later, Tony, Pepper, Clint, Natasha, and Thor were all seated in the kitchen around the dining table. Tony had had JARVIS look up anything that could be connected to Steve and Bruce's disappearance; the AI had come up empty, though, and Tony could tell that everyone was mutually displeased with their results.

Neither Clint nor Natasha could think of a group that had anything to do with an 'Institute', and they couldn't figure out why whoever it was had taken Steve and Bruce. If the kidnappers had been looking for technology they would have had a better chance with Tony instead of Steve, who was incredibly but understandably technology-impaired. Pepper had put in that it might have been that they had grabbed the first two Avengers they had come upon, but Natasha had pointed out that if they had just guessed, Bruce would have probably Hulked out before they got too far, and seeing as they had been gone for nearly a week, it was unlikely.

It was back to square one with the problem, and Tony was beginning to despise 'square one'.

It was Clint who thought up the question that sent Tony towards Answer-Land. "What are they using to control Bruce, I wonder?" the archer asked idly, and Tony had thought about it for about five seconds before he jumped up from his seat. The others watched him as he paced; it was quiet until Natasha finally asked what he was doing.

"I'm thinking. Clint's question was actually a good question; there aren't any known drugs that can sedate Bruce, he's told me. It would have to be an even stronger drug if they wanted to also knock out Cap with it, so it would have to be privately manufactured because clinically a drug that powerful could probably kill a whale. So that means this 'Institute' has hired chemists, and smart chemists, too. That would also mean that they're medically inclined, so they probably have med supplies shipped out to them. Given out remote that part of the country is, high-tech medical supplies would be fairly easy to trace, right?" Tony paused in his monologue, looking at the faces looking at him. The two assassins had their 'planning' look back; Thor just looked confused and Pepper was smiling at him. Good; three out of four was good. They'd explain his theory in-depth to Thor later.

Calling out commands to JARVIS, Tony moved suddenly and started for the elevator, pushed the necessary button and came out a few seconds later on his lab floor. Pulling up one of his touch-screens, Tony started his search.

~.~.~.~.~.~.

**A/N: thank you, also, to everyone who's suggested regenerative characters for me! i'm still looking for more names to toss about so if you have any ideas please help me out! thank you!**

**Next Chapter Peak: 6: Steve and Bruce. In which Bruce has an epiphany and five people lose their voices. **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: this waaaaay too much fun to write...everyone, prepare for some serious chaos - no, seriously, my hands are shaking from the adrenaline i got from writing this chapter. it's really weird.**

**xD**

**also in this next installment, besides the adrenaline-inducing action, is the introduction of Wade Wilson and Logan!**

**All characters in this belong to Marvel...except Dominus (grrrrr) and Kendall. they both belong to me...c;**

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It was somehow worse, knowing _why_ they tortured Steve even as they did. It had been an hour since they had started, and Steve was already exhausted. He spent more energy on not voicing his pain than anything else; despite that, though, his wounds had already begun to heal. His previous wounds were already scarred over, though the current wounds still bled profusely.

Steve was glad that they hadn't stuck knives in his shoulders again; the pain had been excruciating and he wouldn't be surprised if the knife that was in his right shoulder had nicked the bone. His grateful thoughts didn't last long, though; the fillet knife in his left hand was violently ripped out and Steve couldn't hold back the sharp hiss of pain. The urge to flex his hand was overwhelming, but Steve didn't want to put his hand in any more pain. In the corner of his eye Steve could see Bruce as slumped in his chair as physically possible within the confines of the restraints. The doctor's eyes were open, though, and as hard as flint as he glared at the man who had ripped the knife out of Steve's hand. The knife that had been in Bruce's own hand had already been removed, Steve noticed.

After the removal of the knives, though, the men in the room abruptly left; Steve could hear the door bounce back, and his pale face went even paler when he heard screams. Turning around as best he could, Steve watched the chaos happening just outside.

A stream of lab-coated people rushed by, and Steve could hear them shouting. A few seconds later, there was an enraged roar and a huge man came barreling down the hallway, knives in his hands – or coming out of his hand, Steve realized – as the man slashed.

"Get me the sthenotranq!" the shout had come from farther down the hallway, and even though Steve craned his body as far as he could, he couldn't see much more than a few feet down the hallway.

"Steve," the blond heard from Bruce, the tone warning him. Steve ignored Bruce, but regretted it when the chair lost balance as felt over, crashing to the side. As soon as Steve hit the floor he cried out, his wriggling halted when both men heard the audible _snap_. Bruce was struggling to get out of the restraints, but they had been made with super-strength in mind. "Steve, can you get up? It sounded like you broke your arm -" Steve cut him off, the pain over-riding his control emotions. "I _know_ my arm's broken, goddamn it!"

Over his shoulder, Steve could see Bruce draw back, and Steve sighed. "Sorry, Bruce. It's just….." Bruce nodded. "Overwhelming," he finished, a small wry smile on his face. "Something like that," Steve growled, trying to move in the chair without moving his arm, which was quickly proven impossible.

Steve couldn't stop trying, though, and soon Bruce was shouting at him. "Steve, you're just going to hurt yourself more if you don't quit!" Steve replied with a wordless howl, born from frustration and pain. Gasping for breath, Steve took the moment to think. Bruce was right; thrashing about in restraints was only going to hurt him more, and pain was something he did not like. He was experiencing more pain than he had throughout his term in the war; his knife wounds were more painful than any old single bullet wound he'd received. Maybe it was because his healing wasn't as quick because of his hunger; thinking about it made the hunger hit him, and he groaned. In all his efforts to escape, and then to block out the pain, Steve hadn't felt the devastating hunger that had been plaguing him. He was amazed he had ignored it for so long….wait. How long had they been gone? Steve couldn't remember, couldn't find a way to count the days that had gone by.

With again-renewed determination, Steve strained against his bindings, refusing to let the pain cloud his mind. The only results from his efforts was another _snap_, this time his wrist. Practically crying as desperation fought his frustration and pain, Steve slumped into the chair and gave his escape tries a rest.

~.~.~.~.

Bruce was worried, which would probably prove to be an understatement but he didn't care right then. He was more concerned with Steve trying to rip his way out of his fallen chair. The snapping of the soldier's bones had made Bruce cringe, and his instinct to get up and help Steve had been denied by the restraints. Bruce had been out for most of however long they'd been gone, but he knew that he should have gotten angry already. Right at that very moment he was completely pissed much he was the same. There was no sudden growth, no roar from the Other Guy as he surged to the surface, no getting pushed to the backseat of his own mind.

It scared Bruce, scared him deeply, that he was actually _wishing_ that the Other Guy would come out, would save him and Steve both. What terrified him more, though, was that someone had actually found a drug that kept his inner monster away. It was impossible…wasn't it? If anyone could have found such a drug it would have been him; no one knew his situation quite like he did. To get away from the present, Bruce let himself sink into the world of medications and Latin. As he filed through every drug combination he knew, something caught his attention: one of the men had yelled out earlier, when the knife-in-his-hands man had been running rampant. What had he yelled?...sthenotranq. Yes. That was it. 'Stheno' meant 'strong' in some language….and 'tranq' was obviously tranquilizer…..

"Shit," Bruce breathed. They must have developed a new kind of tranquilizer, one strong enough to knock out not only Steve – who he knew was almost impossible to knock out using drugs – but also the Other Guy. Had they done this research and development with the two of them in mind, or had they only fit in? That brought him to the information the crazy 'doctor' Dominus. He had said that they were here to help them find immortality….but how? How could they gain immortality from him and Steve? Neither of their regenerative genes were strong enough to do more than heal; Bruce had heard about people who could heal from anything, but he knew that if the wound was fatal neither Bruce nor Steve would survive it.

It occurred to Bruce that maybe it wasn't just about the regeneration; healing was only part of the super-soldier serum. Dominus had said 'immortality'….well, Bruce thought, if you could combine extreme regeneration, a superior metabolism and immune system, and the protective rage of an inner monster…you could very well become immortal.

Of course, though, his thoughts were interrupted by the door slamming against the wall. Dominus stalked in; Bruce had to smirk and mentally congratulate the crazed knife-man because he had obviously hit someone. Dominus's face was striped red, from the right temple to his left jaw.

"I should send that man flowers. Your face is such an improvement from earlier," Bruce complimented wryly. In his mind he thought he had been around Tony too much.

Dominus growled, stomping over to Steve in his over-turned chair. Bruce watched on with amusement and the white-coated man tried to lift the chair back up, but Steve's weight combined with the very-solid chair proved too much for Dominus. Bruce felt a little bad for Steve as Dominus's efforts yanked on his arm, but also felt a bit proud of the spiteful curses that came out of the good captain's mouth.

It took three men – including two of the men who had dragged Steve into the room – to get Steve and the chair upright again. Steve's face was red by then, his breathing shallow from the pain, and what Bruce would imagine the difficulty of breathing side-ways on the ground while restrained within an inch of his life.

As Bruce took in Steve's face, he felt angry. Since his anger couldn't be expressed like it usually was, Bruce decided to pull a 'Tony' – talk the hell out of his situation. It worked for the billionaire, usually. The boldness wasn't even that hard for Bruce to manage.

"You know," he began, "if you let him out of these ridiculous restraints he might not vagel on you. Some food and water would also help a bunch."

Suddenly Dominus was on his, the torturer's fist smashing into Bruce's face. Ears ringing and his face stinging, Bruce vaguely heard Steve shouting in a rather wheezy voice. "Leave him alone, you jackass!-" Dominus turned on Steve next, the super-soldier shouting curses and threats at the doctor even as he rained heavy blows on Steve's bound body. Bruce was soon joining in on the tirade and beating, both prisoners' voice shouting as loud as possible. Soon their voices were hoarse but Dominus was still punching, the man's eyes wild. As Steve's yells faltered, a new voice joined in with the chaos; it was from next door, Bruce was sure.

The shouts were as wordless as Steve and Bruce's, but it sounded more deranged. "Shut the hell up!" yet another voice shouted, and Bruce thought, as a fist connected with his abdomen, that it sounded a lot like the knife-wielding man from earlier.

~.~.~.~.

The noise was making Steve's head ring even as his wordless howls filled his mouth. If this was his only release then he would make the best of it; even his burning throat and the fists constantly pummeling him couldn't stop him from pouring all his energy into the noise. After an hour of non-stop clamor Dominus looked like he could kill them all; his eyes were wild and his knuckles were bloody.

"Kendall! Get the hell in here!" Dominus was shouting again, but this time it was for a purpose. Exhausted, Steve let his shouts die down; looking over, he saw that Bruce had done the same. There was still an insistent wailing, though, coming from the direction of what Steve assumed was another white room. "Shut the fuck up, Wade!" Whoever was bellowed at the wailer sounded terrifying, Steve thought.

Behind him, Steve dully registered a petite young woman; timidly, she sidled by him. Steve looked up at her and she gasped; he noticed that she seemed to be shaking, though as it continued, he guessed the shakes weren't from fright.

"Kendall!" Dominus barked at the girl, who jumped and looked away from Steve. "Go get me two shots of the sthenotranq for here, and give one to Renaldo to shut Wilson up. The noise must have waked him, and the last thing we need is Logan trying to kill him again." Wilson must be the wailer, Steve thought. Bruce, thought, was looking sick. "Logan…..you don't mean Wolverine, do you?" Dominus smiled. "Yes, Logan came to us not long before you did, Mr. Banner." Steve was puzzled; Bruce looked strangely petrified.

"H-how?" Dominus's smiled transformed into a predatory grin and Steve felt his heart skip a beat at the terror that was forming. "The same way we brought you and Mr. Rogers here, though, his recovery was much more…..violent than yours." Bruce cast a glance back at the wall. Steve's terror and confusion climaxed, and he started struggling against his restraints again, mindless of the pain. At the same time, Bruce started yelling again, and Dominus growled in frustration.

"Logan! Can you hear me? Wolverine!" Bruce's cries were deafening, but Steve could barely hear the reply when it came. "Banner? Is that you?" The wailer, Wilson, started up again with a rather creepy laugh, and Logan started shouting at him again. "We're all going to die, Bruce mi amigo!" "Shut up, Wade! If you say one more thing I'm going to rip your throat out!" Dominus was shouting again, somehow managing to drown out not only Logan and 'Wade' Wilson's argument, but also Bruce's shouting. It was long before the trembling girl, Kendall, returned with a shaking tray. Dominus snatched up the two syringes on it, cruelly stabbing Bruce in the neck with one, ignoring the dark-haired man's shriek of pain; in the next room, Steve heard a similar set of howls as both Wade and Logan were silenced. Steve was last; he was enough in his right mind, though, for his final act of defiance. Lifting his head, eyes burning with hatred as his wounds burned, Steve spit at Dominus's face, getting blood and saliva in the torturer's eye and on his clothes. Snarling, Dominus thrust the needle into Steve's neck; the injection soon knocked him out.

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**A/N: not only was all that action written in about thirty heart-pounding minutes...this is also my longest chapter. hurray for personal achievement!**

**&for those who will wonder how Bruce even knows Logan, they've met in my headcanon...i don't really know that much about the comics, but in my headcanon they're sort-of friends.**

**also, the drug named here, 'sthenotranq' was named by BlueStrawberryIII, so, thank you again!**

**Next Chapter Peak: 7: Team. In which Tony kind of loses it and they finally get their first clue.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: sorry for the long wait, amigos! this chapter was more difficult for me to write then i had expected. I know most everyone wanted another chapter with Steve and Bruce, but i couldn't pass up the chance when i found something to do with Tony.**

**c;**

**forward warning: this chapter contains the drinking of alcohol and some of the worst swearing I've done in my life. (Blame Tony. Silly sailor-mouthed alcoholic...)**

**I own nothing~**

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_Crash!_ The sound reverberated through the room, the source a now-broken vase that Pepper had left in the lab for some reason or another. It had been pretty, blue with dainty white flowers and smiling sunflower. The intended cheeriness had fully pissed Tony off and in a surge of irritation he had thrown the vase and those _smiling_ _and happy __**freaking**_ flowers against the far wall of the lab, the pottery exploding as the flowers were simultaneously ripped to pieces.

A few minutes later, Pepper and Clint came running in, Pepper's face alarmed and Clint's curious. "Tony?" Pepper sounded like she had expected the lab to be bombed which, seeing as Tony was in there, was an actual possibility.

Tony felt his fingers shaking as he gripped the edge of the table he was leaning on. Looking back at Pepper and Clint, he saw Clint's suddenly hard blue eyes on him; the archer had noticed his shaking hands, then. Him and his freaking eyesight.

~.~.~.~.

Bruce and Steve had been gone for nearly a month, and although he kept up a good appearance Tony was not handling it well. It didn't help that everyone who was living in the Avengers Tower – _his_ tower – could see right through him. Natasha, before she left for God-knew-where, had actually confronted him and informed him that if he decided to have a relapse episode of his infamous birthday party while she was gone that she would kill him. Not even Tony was stupid enough to ignore a death-threat from the Black Widow because she was a freaking ninja and could kill anyone of them. Later, though, he understood what she had really meant (Tony was pretty good at reading in-between the lines): focus on Steve and Bruce.

Focusing, of course, was a simple task – this was Bruce (and Steve)! If they couldn't be found the great bromance they had developed over a year and a half of living in the same tower and being in the same superhero team would be broken!

Actually working on finding his missing people proved harder, though. S.H.E.I.L.D. was restricting his access to their records, and if he hacked their system again Fury had promised that something **terrible** would happen. The threat, it seemed, was pretty believable and besides, Tony didn't need S.H.E.I.L.D. They were a useless bunch of spies; Fury was the most pointless of them all. Officially, the Avengers were on 'medical leave' but would say nothing more. Tony was inclined to punch the freaking pirate in the face the next time he saw him; S.H.E.I.L.D.'s statement had led to reporters constantly swarming the Tower; trying to see who was injured so bad that the entire team was taken off the front line. Tony was forced to watch and read all these reports, of course; the one he hated the most was one written for the _Daily Bugle_, a local paper. The article claimed that a reporter had 'seen' Captain America get impaled by a spear in their last battle. Tony had thought that it was a hilarious at first; lost in his train of thought, he had laughed and told JARVIS to get Steve down from his room. When JARVIS, with regret, informed him _again_ that Captain Rogers was not in the building, Tony had instantly quieted; he had sat on the couch for almost four hours, staring at the newspaper without seeing it. He had barely noticed when Clint had come in and taken the newspaper from his sight; Clint had been frozen to his spot as well, and when Tony finally looked up at him, the expression on his face made Tony want to cry. Tony Stark didn't cry, though, so he had continued sitting there in the stony silence.

~.~.~.~.

The days passed slowly and with no results to Tony's tireless search. Another week passed as Tony drove himself passed every limit that existed before him. He slept sparingly, usually passing out for a few hours in front of a screen, watching and re-watching the video of Steve and Bruce's abduction, trying to find anything that he hadn't found, trying to find the answers. The lack of new information was driving Tony crazy, and though he wouldn't admit it aloud, he really missed their two missing men. The lab was so lonely now, though Tony was used to working alone; his music couldn't fill Bruce's absence, though. Reminders of both laid around the living floors: Steve's sketchbook, a sheaf of papers filled with scrawled equations, CDs from Steve's ever-growing music library; it had been unanimously agreed on that their things would not be touched, because if there was anything both Bruce and Steve cherished it was their privacy.

~.~.~.~.

A month and a half after Steve and Bruce had been taken the remaining Avengers were breaking down. Natasha hadn't been around much; Tony thought that for a woman supposedly with no feelings she sure was running from her emotions a lot. Clint had taken to brooding on the roof when he wasn't off on missions with Natasha. Thor was probably the worst, though Tony was a close second. The Asgardian had taken Steve and Bruce's kidnapping personal and brooded almost as much as Clint. Since there was no avenging to do, Tony had come out of his lab just long enough to offer Jane Foster and all of her people rooms in the Tower; Jane stayed more than the other two did, though mostly for Thor.

When Tony stumbled out of his lab under a threat from Pepper – who was in Malibu but still able put the fear of assassination in Tony – he flipped open his phone and saw, eyes wide in disbelief, that it was 2:43 am on a Thursday morning. As he stared at the date, his brain flew through thoughts like a train. Steve and Bruce had been missing for almost two months, and he had nothing.

"Nothing!" he suddenly shouted, his frustration and irritation and that feeling that had been pricking at him for weeks was just too impossible to resist so he picked up the first thing he got his hand on and launched it across the room, shouting wordlessly.

Tony watched as the Xbox controller collided with the T.V., making a high-pitched crash as the device shattered. The screen was cracked and falling apart, the controller lodged in the plastic from the force of Tony's throw.

There was a complete silence for a moment and Tony tried to control himself, then another raged cry as his feeble walls against the emotions crumbled. His voice betraying every emotion, Tony started launching things at the T.V., anything within reach. Soon all that was left of the expensive piece of technology was an empty shell, the screen completely fallen out; the glass and plastic covered the floor, reflecting the faint light of the kitchen behind Tony.

His blood still pulsing with the ferociousness of his emotions, Tony stalked over to the skeletal remains of the T.V. Ripping it off the wall he started bashing the plastic into the wall, his expression fierce as the unyielding plastic cut his hands as it ripped across the wall.

"What has happened here, Man of Iron?" Thor's booming voice shocked Tony out of his rampaging train-wreck of thoughts.

"I can't find them, Thor," Tony admitted softly, his rage draining and the T.V. slipping from his bloody hands. Without another thought, the demigod strode over to Tony and enveloped the smaller man in a tight embrace. Tony was unsure of how to respond; it wasn't like he got hugs from gods every day. So he settled for awkwardly patting Thor's back as the Asgardian offered his comfort.

~.~.~.~.

An hour later, Tony had cared for the scrapes on his hands and had stationed himself on the couch, a decanter of scotch and about the entire tower's supply of liquor on the cushions next to him. A little woozy, Tony had already gone through half of bottle of cognac already. Thirty minutes of drinking and brooding later – Thor had left him to his own devices (which always proved to be a bad idea in the end) and had gone back upstairs – Tony had finished the cognac and started on the scotch. When that was finished two hours later, he was most definitely drunk and had moved to sit in the kitchen, glaring balefully at a glass of water that he had clumsily filled and place about a foot from him on the table. He was knocking back his first glass of rum – he had found it hidden above the fridge – when a hand shook his shoulder, causing him to slosh some of the liquor out of the glass. "G'nna spill 'll my dr'nk" he grumbled, his words slurring. He heard a quiet sigh and the chair next to him moved, and soon Tony turned his head to find Jane Foster sitting there, a very disapproving look on her face. "What – can I do for you, beautiful?" he asked. Jane shook her head. "First of all, Mr. Stark, you can stop drinking yourself into a coma." She started taking all the containers that had travelled with Tony from the living room to the kitchen, his rum included. "Hey hey hey." He protested, but short of giving her a half-hearted glare he didn't move.

After the liquor had been taken away – she'd left him his glass, though, which he now nursed carefully – Jane took back her seat, slumping down until her head rested on her crossed arms on the table. Tony could stand the quiet for only so long, and in his drunken state he was, of course, prone to irrational acts. "You know, it's like they've died or something. We don't touch anything that is theirs; we don't go in their rooms. Some days I just can't fathom that they're actually going to come back, that they are dead and we should just get the fuck over it –" his rant was cut off but a ferocious slap to his face, practically giving him whiplash as he head was thrashed to the right.

Face stinging, Tony reeled back. "What the hell was that for?" he shouted, cursing as he held a hand to his smarting cheek. Jane looked positively infuriated. "That was for _giving up_! How dare you give up on them now! How _dare_ you let the other three brood and spiral into darkness while you sit here and drink yourself into oblivion! You, Tony _fucking_ Stark, are an _embarrassment_ to the Avengers. Do you think Bruce or Steve would _ever_ stop looking? What do you do down there in that lab of yours, Stark?" Tony was actually at a loss for words. Jane looked ready to cry. "You don't know just how bad off everyone else is, too, do you? I've been with Thor more-or-less for almost two years, and I've never seen him as messed-up as he is now. We're all depending on you, Stark. How can you possibly be doing all that you should while trying to drown everything in an escape that will _never_ fully take anything away?" The tears were falling now, and Tony felt – ashamed. It was a rare emotion for him, but although he would never admit to it aloud – like a great many things – he couldn't deny it to himself.

When Tony didn't answer her question, Jane turned away and walked away. Tony was left sitting alone again, seriously regretting the rum as he stared down into the glass. The inviting liquor was enticing, and he wanted nothing more than to drown his sorrows but then Jane's words would come back and eventually the battle raged in his mind and he grabbed the glass with one hand and hurled the glass – and rum – away from him, hearing the satisfying shatter of the glass as it hit the opposite wall.

~.~.~.~.

His hangover the next morning was terrifying – he blamed the rum – but not so bad that he couldn't drag himself off the makeshift bed built in the lab. Jane's words were still in his mind, and he decided that it couldn't hurt to re-look at the medical equipment shipments he had found. His pounding headache made it a bit hard to focus, but he ignored it and trained his gaze on the screen, wondering if he could still trace the phone call even now. JARVIS said that no, he couldn't.

"Damn," he muttered, closing his eyes and letting his head pound away as he thought.

The sound of a phone ringing jolted him out of his mind and he went flailing to the floor, startled and even a bit fearful – though another thing that he would never admit to. When he was sure a bomb wasn't going off and it was a real, legit phone ringing, he hesitantly answered.

**"Is this – Mr. Stark?" **The voice was female and extremely scared. Tony, though, was more wary. "How did you get this number?" he questioned suspiciously.

**"M-Mr. Banner told me that if I could help them I could call this number."** Tony froze. Bruce had given this girl his number? That meant – Tony turned the phone away for a second, quietly ordering JARVIS to trace the call.

"Ms….um, what's your name?" There was a soft sob on the other end.** "I don't want to say, they might find out. Mr. Rogers said t-that you needed to c-come quickly." **Tony's heart was beating fast, and he took a deep breath. "How do I know this is legit?" he asked, just to be careful. He would have the location in another thirty seconds, but any extra time made it so JARVIS could exactly pinpoint.

On the other end, there was a few seconds of no breathing and then another sob.** "M-M-Mr. Roger's said to tell you that the nickname he really hates the m-most is 'Spangles',"** the girl replied, crying. She took a deep breath and continued.** "M-Mr. Banner said that if you touched his n-neuron anti-gravitational hypertube experiment that he would happily disable your A.I. and string you up by your feet while – N-Natasha? – used you as a piñata."** Tony thought that was a very Bruce-like threat.

"Alright, can you get out? Whoever 'they' are probably won't be very happy about your help." The girl started ranting. **"I just couldn't do it, I couldn't! the screams and blood and scars and oh my god you have to help me – help all of them! The doctor, he brought me into the room and M-Mr. Rogers looked just so in **_**pain**_**-" **_**shit**_** "-and I just can't deal with the screaming anymore and – ahhhhhh!"** the girl was now the one screaming, and Tony was wise enough, though it pained him, to keep his end of the line silent. He heard a jumble of voices as he death-gripped the phone. **"Just a stupid girl" "-talking to herself on a dead phone-" "**_**Kendall!**_**"**

The connection was cut soon after that.

Tony felt really bad about the girl on the phone, but he was more grateful that she had had the guts to call him. Thanks to her he now had a place to search, a lead to find the two missing Avengers, though the girl's description of Steve made Tony wonder, just for a second, what sort of state they're be finding the two in. _Don't have time to worry about that now_, Tony said firmly to himself as he shouted commands for JARVIS to get everyone in the Tower to the main kitchen. Pulling out his phone, he pressed the icon for his contact list and scrolled until he found both Natasha and Clint's names; he sent a quick text message to them while he ran for the elevator, his renewed determination driving away the last of his hangover-headache. He pressed send just as the elevator doors opened.

_** I found**_** them.**

~.~.~.~.~.~.

**:D rescue is coming~**

**Next Chapter Peak (i went back and did this for all the chapters if you're not just joining in on my fanfiction): 8: Steve and Bruce. In which there is even more t&p and a session of group therapy.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: guys. i'm sorry, i'm so sorry. let's just say life + extended writer's block. i cherish and adore EVERY SINGLE review, alert, and favourite i have received in these past few months. i have them all in a special folder in my email. I never meant to take such a break, but for all you beautiful people, here is the long-awaited CHAPTER EIGHT.**

****The passing of time had an odd effect on Steve. It would seem like a minutes took a century to pass and later an hour was like a second. Bruce, who was feeling similar, blamed the 'sthenotranq' they were being dosed.

The tortures, too, would pass quickly and slowly. Knives, hammers, pins, needles…..all were painful, and all were administered apathetically. It bothered Steve to no end, the blank faces and eyes empty of any emotion. The only emotions he'd seen in the compound's staff were Kendall's.

After the first two weeks – or what Steve guessed at – Dominus stopped torturing the two Avengers personally. Instead, another doctor was assigned the task. Steve didn't know the man's name but hated him just as much as Dominus, if not more. The new doctor proved to be very adept at his job, as his tortures were not only physically agonizing but also psychologically. Steve swore to Bruce one day that he would never touch a knife again. Steve had taken to calling the man Adolf because of the man's stature and his obvious apathy for life. Bruce approved of the name.

Another week passed.

~.~.~.~.

Steve and Bruce were slouched as far in their chairs as possible when Adolf came in; both Avengers' faces went from pained to cold in a matter of seconds, though to his credit Adolf was never fazed by their murderous glares. Behind him were four of the huge men that often hung around the room, as if they were afraid the captives could escape. With a short, sharp order in what Steve familiarized as French, the huge men paired up and made for the two restrained men. In a process that Steve refused to admire, the four men quickly had Steve and Bruce standing, but still bound. Zip-ties harshly bound their wrists behind their backs, while another larger pair restrained their upper arms. Their ankles were also bound, loose enough so they could walk at faster than a shuffle but not much else.

As they were roughly grabbed and shoved out into the hallway, Steve tried to ignore the pain in his arms as he and Bruce walked side-by-side, occasionally bumping shoulders as their weak legs tried to hold them up. Truly, he was terrified at how overall weak he felt and he despised the powerless and defenseless position he and Bruce held.

The walk was a slow one, tempting Steve to try to make a break for it, to run. It would hurt but he could get out of the cable ties; the real problem, though, was how to not only take down their burly guards but also get out of the compound. He had no idea where the exit was, no clue as to the number of guards and other details he needed to make a plan that would actually work. His alternative, though, was more infuriating: wait. Steve would be truly surprised (and pissed) if Tony wasn't looking for then that instant, that the other Avengers would just let them disappear.

Steve resolutely ignored the sudden doubt that followed his previous reasoning; the other Avengers would come for them. They would get out of this situation and they would survive, and they would destroy this compound and its director.

As if Bruce could read his thoughts, the doctor bumped Steve's shoulder and they exchanged glances.

A plan started to form in Steve's mind as they quietly walked down the seemingly never-ending maze of hallways.

~.~.~.~.

"How big is this place?" Steve decided to wonder aloud. Their guards gave no answer. They are gone through yet another door, each locked with a keycard, fingerprint scanner and eye-scanner; this last one was their fourth such door.

He waited five minutes before trying again.

"Where are we now?"

No answer.

Much like Bruce had done during the first few meetings with Dominus, Steve started tapping into his inner asshole.

"Could we at least have some water?" That earned Steve a swift punch to the abdomen, and Steve couldn't help fighting back a bit.

One broken nose and finger later, Steve and Bruce were back to walking down the hallways with the guards at their back, though they were more wary now.

Steve eventually got bored of glaring at the floor and instead started trying to look through the reinforced windows in the doors they passed. The world took on a sort-of horror-movie quality (Tony had made Steve watched _Nightmare on Elm Street _and _Halloween _a couple months back. It had not been a pleasant experience.)

Most windows yielded empty rooms; in one, though, Steve saw a naked man on a table, dark hair an almost-invisible inkblot in the red-stained white walls. Steve shuddered when the man's agonized cries echoed through the hallway.

Bruce gave Steve a look of sympathy at his sickened grimace.

In a room across the hall, Steve fought his gag reflex as he watched a small blonde girl scream bloody-murder as an expressionless lab-coated man slice open her stomach and back off. The resulting mess made Steve sick; the guards' at his and Bruce's back seemed content to let them stop and stare in horror at the shrieking girl as her blood gushed out in a crimson flood, her arms straining against the restraints as she cried for mercy.

Steve couldn't take it after a minute more, turned to the side and puked his guts out, though not much came up due to their lack of food.

Bruce looked agonized.

~.~.~.~.

It was another twenty minutes after stopped at the girl's room before Bruce and Steve reached their destination. Their new room was almost exactly the same as the previous one, though it was noticeably larger and also had an ugly gray curtain separating the room in two.

Adolf was waiting for them in the room, his face expressionless as they were both forced into restrained chairs. Steve had the mind to notice the difference in these chairs from the firsts; the arm restrains were higher and as they were strapped he found they restrained at the bicep and not the forearm. He was grateful for it, too; he had broken another finger fighting the guards, though Bruce had managed to break one guard's nose.

In the room, Adolf looked indifferent to their protests. The guards roughly shoved the two captives into chairs sitting opposite each other, each on one side of the gray curtain. The man with the broken nose made sure to break one of Bruce's fingers as he harnessed him into the chair's restraints. Bruce growled at the pain.

The two guards left with one final hit at Steve's head; the burst of pain made Steve wince.

Vision blurring, Steve blinked a few times as the pain resonated through his skull, setting off every bruise and cut on it and aggravating a still-healing concussion. He blinked furiously, panicking when his vision took its time to clean.

Adolf looked at him with his peculiarly dead-looking eyes. Steve wondered in a small part of his brain of this guy even had emotions – psychopath? sociopath? He couldn't remember the name.

There was a flicker in his peripheral vision he saw a quick flash of silver and suddenly there was a crisp, burning pain deep in his calves. The pain was making Steve woozy again, and he gritted his teeth to ignore it. He struggled weakly and in vain against his bindings as Adolf did the same to Bruce; Steve watched with worry as Bruce's face went white, though he couldn't even really remember a time now when it hadn't been pale.

He was losing his mind, surely. For a moment he had to re-count the days he'd figured they'd been there.

Another jolt of pain shocked his body, and he could feel the effects of the sthenotranq as it coursed through his body. Bruce had figured that it was a long-term tranq, as it not only managed to knock them out for more than ten minutes, but also had begun to dampen their abilities. Both healed at a much slower rate than they were accustomed to.

Steve's mood managed to sour even more as time moved on.

Three weeks into their new room (Steve had given up on finding a name to label the room that wouldn't give him a heart attack every time he heard it in the future) Steve finally heard something that might have actually been interesting.

"-the general'll be here in another month-" it was only said in passing, and the only reason Steve had heard was that one of their mystery-torturers hadn't completely shut the door. As an errant impulse Steve reached to rub the new wound in his thigh, forgetting that it _hurt_ to rub a bullet wound. Looking down at his sweat-pants, he could barely tell what color they were, from both the holes and the various dried blood and dirt from his run in Rochester. Across the room Bruce was unconscious; he, too, had a brand-new and probably still-bleeding bullet wound in his thigh. Outside, the hushes conversation carried on. "He'll come to look at 'im, yeah. Yes, I know what I'm talking. You start to get sentimental or something I'll cut you off."

Hm. Maybe their torturers weren't as apathetic as he'd previously thought. He wished Bruce was still awake, if only for someone to share the conversation with. Instead, he started thinking through anyone he knew who could be 'the general'. He could rule out all the generals he knew; all of his generals were long dead, and he hadn't ever been introduced to any of the modern-day generals of the army. Bruce might have known, but he _was_ unconscious and therefore incapable of sharing knowledge.

It was a true surprise when, in the dead of night – or, like any other pre-conceived notion of telling time Steve had, some time when all the blank-faced torturers left – the girl, Kendall, appeared. She had a couple bottles of water and a large napkin in each hand. Steve watched her warily, already too used to sudden attacks and pain. Shaking as constantly as the first time he'd seen her, he eyed more with worry than wariness now that he got a good look at her. Not speaking, she pulled a tiny folded-up table from somewhere deeper in the room, setting her items on top of it. When she unfolded the napkin to show its contents, just the sight of the bread made him actually feel the hunger that had been tearing apart his insides. Keeping silent, though, was priority, and as much as he wanted to wake up Bruce he was afraid of the reaction he'd have. Looking over to Bruce to assess the situation, he was surprised to see Bruce already awake. The conversation he'd heard in passing earlier sprang up in his mind, but Steve didn't want to discuss it with Kendall present, even if she was helping them. Without speaking Kendall fed both Steve and Bruce the bread; the taste made him want to burst into song. Smiling wanly, Kendall dipped her head to both of them and then departed, leaving the room looking as if nothing had been disturbed.

"That was unexpected," Bruce commented quietly, eyeing the room with hatred. Looking back to Steve, he saw the ex-soldier was rubbing the wound on his thigh, and it made Bruce want to abuse his own wound. "You're going to infect it," Bruce hissed, and guiltily Steve pulled back his arm.

As he did, Steve remembered the conversation. "Do you know any Army generals who would touch this place? I heard some of the guards mention it earlier."

_Army generals…immortality…._his thought process short-circuited, his mind shouting the name at him as Bruce was forced to see through every angle of _why_.

_Immortal soldiers….the never-ending attempt of revenge and recovery of me….Goddamn it, the super-soldier himself._ If Ross got his hands on Steve, he wouldn't even need Bruce anymore; the serum in there, in Steve's bones and blood. "Unfortunately, I do," he admitted. Taking a deep breath, he continued, thinking that he hadn't really wanted to tell _anyone_ about it, but for the sake of their lives Steve would have to know.

"The man I think they're talking about is General Ross, and Army general who was actually in charge of the project that, um, resulted in me." He saw Steve blinked. "When I escaped, Ross justified chasing me for years by claiming the Other Guy was government property and I'd 'stolen' him. It never helped my situation with him that I'd, uh, dated his daughter, a co-worker. He's never forgiven me for any of it, and I can't imagine that he's coming to apologize." When he focused back on Steve, he saw his friend was staring intently at the floor. "Steve?"

Steve blinked. "I was planning," he explained, wishing he had a pen and paper to illustrate the plan formed in his mind. "The guards said that 'the general' would be arriving in about a month, so that should be plenty of time to escape," he said, despite the voice in his head that whispered, "_if it's so easy, __**why haven't you?**__"_

Bruce, hesitantly going over the plan his mind, nodded. "It's not much of a plan," he said, with a teasing air that then fled as he continued, "but with a motive such as this I think we can do it." He was being optimistic, he knew. It was more likely that they would never escape, that they would be stuck forever in a cold, sterile room while Ross laughed over them and their genes were used to kill….

"Bruce," he heard Steve say, and Bruce got the feeling he'd said his name several times. Steve leaned as far in his chair as he could, meeting Bruce's eyes with his blue ones. "It's going to be alright, Bruce," Steve said, pouring determination and confidence that he was forcing himself to feel into his words. Bruce nodded hesitantly. Satisfied that Bruce wasn't going to have a panic attack, Steve felt himself drift into an exhausted sleep.

~.~.~.

When the door to their room opened, Steve was slightly surprised to see a different face behind a mask. Amid Steve's muted moans and Bruce's protests, Steve was drug out of the room and taken on through the cold pale facility. It took was seemed like hours to reach their destination, a gray gym-like room filled with machines. He was led stumbling to a treadmill and shoved onto it. While he braced himself to keep from falling, a pair of cuffs suddenly wrapped around his wrists, pulling his arms down with their weight. Not half as strong as usual, Steve gingerly pulled at the new restraint, looking at the mask-man quizzically. "You will run on this machine until we say otherwise," the man instructed as some sort of tech came up and attached little sticky square things that Steve thought might be some kind of monitors. The mask-man started the treadmill without warning, and Steve took his chance and jumped, running back towards the door. He got about ten feet from the treadmill before a pulse jumped through his body and sent him sprawling. Steve couldn't think through the blinding pain, could stop his body from jerking as if possessed. The scream he heard seemed to come from everywhere, and it was an eon before the pain subsided.

"The cuffs placed on you will give you an electric shock of about five hundred volts should you try to escape from this room or refuse the test. Should refusal continue, the shock capacity will be lifted higher." The man's words were short and clipped, the voice dull and monotonous.

They were going to force him to run? He'd been sitting bound in a chair for – what he considered, anyway – a month!

"You…expect me to run….when I've…been….sitting in a chair…for…a month?" it took far longer for his mouth to form and communicate the words than he would have liked, but at least he could still move. The reply was short and cruel. "Yes, Mr. Rogers, we do."

**A/N: ahaha evil me, a/n on top and bottom. but guys, i love hearing from you; i also likes critiques. if you ever see a typo or a plot-hole or something, please tell me! these are all un-beta'd so i'm bound to miss something, and on that note, a beta...haha, i wouldn't ask anyone to deal with me**

**xD**

**until the next chapter,**

**in which there is ever more pain and suffering, but our poor boys get a ray of hope at last.**


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